Shattered Windows and the Sound of Drums
by Yawwii
Summary: Gabriel wakes alone and confused, months after he died.  Sam's alone again, working in a bar  again , and only hunting occasionally.  Warning: MAY contain Slash, if it does it is highly unlikely that it will be M. Rated T for swears.
1. People couldn't believe what I'd become

Title: Shattered Windows and the Sound of Drums.

Author: Yawwi

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, Coldplay, or any other copyrighted works that may or may not appear in this in the future.

Season: 5 & 7, AU from Slash Fiction.

Pairings: There will possibly be Sam/Gabriel Slash, it'll depend on what people want to see really, and if people are even interested.

Summary: Gabriel's alive! He wakes up confused and alone at The Elysian Fields hotel with no memory, and takes it from there, surviving but not living, until he runs in to an old friend at a bar. Meanwhile, Sam's just found out that Dean killed Amy, and is alone again, unable to even look at his brother.

Author's Note: Okay, well, after getting yet another subscriber for my other (really really crap story), I got inspired to write a new one. Honestly, that story hasn't been updated in about 19 months, and was terrible to begin with. Anyway, I just had this idea and wanted to write it. It is not meant to resemble any other work previously created (although with this many stories online it probably will). Also, fair warning, updates will not be regular. I have exams coming up in January and other RL obstacles.

P.s. There is a timelag between Gabriel dying and waking up, it will be explained later on.

He woke to something dripping on his face. The side that was pressed downwards was wet where it met the ground. As he became more aware he realised that the clothes he was wearing were damp. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a bird singing. He rolled over and sat up, groaning as he pushed his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything hurt, he couldn't remember a time when something didn't hurt.

Blearily he took in his surroundings. He was in a valley, dawn had just broken, and a light mist was hovering above the earth, just starting to clear. There were fowers and greenery everywhere, and huge birch trees on the higher planes of the valley. He was sitting underneath a sap, one of the first to breach the lower layers, and he could see a fox dissappearing into the treeline at the opposite end of the small clearing.

Slowly he pushed his way to his feet and shoved his hands into the pockets of his damp jeans. He hadn't changed them in weeks, maybe months. He didn't care anymore; he'd lost count of the days that had passed since he'd awoken, alone and cold, in a run down motel in the middle of nowhere. He had no memory of what had happened before. No indication of who he was, or even what country he was in. He knew the basics: breathe, eat, sleep, that you need money to do most of these things, and that was about it. He was grateful for the small shower that must have happened while he was asleep; at least he was clean now, even if he was wet and cold.

He'd spent the weeks hustling pool and counting cards in poker (which he seemed to have an affinity for) in dodgy bars, getting enough money for a warm meal, but not enough to get caught, and unfortunately not enough for a room for the night. He either hitched rides between towns, or walked there. He never really got tired, and hadn't yet gotten ill from sleeping rough. He remembered crashing in the valley the night before when he'd been walking along another road, but didn't reach a town before nightfall.

The road wasn't far from where he'd slept, and he'd make good time since he woke early. He took a quick drink from the flask he'd always had with him, and headed on, determined to reach another town soon; he'd been walking for a few days now, eating what little fruit he could find, not daring to kill any animals (he told himself it was incase they had a disease, but whenever he had enough money to buy a meal it would never have meat in, he prefered to have lavish desserts anyway).

Heat scorched down on his head as he walked, and the sun was high in the sky before he saw the first signs of a town, smoke billowing in the distance. The sunlight caught in his hair, making it glint in gold streaks, matching the colour of his eyes, and surrounding the top of his head in an almost-halo.

He reached the center of the town in the late afternoon, and headed straight for the first bar he saw, the doorchime clanging softly, barely heard over the sounds of life within. He slipped on to a stool at the end of the wooden bar and waited for the bartender to turn his way, he was in no hurry; there was plenty of the day left and he still had enough money to last for a few more meals.

"What can I get you sir?" The bartender had a polite voice, but even from that short sentence it was clear he was the sort of guy that shouldn't be fucked with. It was impressive.

*Author's note: Title is from Coldplay's 'Viva la Vida', because the idea of Gabriel sleeping rough and having to steal money to eat reminds me of the 'Once was great then fell so far' idea, which is how I take the song, it is unlikely that the themes of the story will reflect songs from hereon out. Also, I'm British, so I'm really sorry for any phrases/words I use that aren't American (e.g. I might use 'Jumper' instead of 'Sweater').*

P.p.s. WHEN DID GLEE OVERTAKE US? WHAT WITCHCRAFT IS THIS? Srsly ppl, we need more stories. Prepare for the onslaught of one shots :D 200 stories ahead? I can do that :D.


	2. I won't be coming home tonight

Chapter Two: I won't be coming home tonight.

AN: Okay, I lied, it's likely that all chapter names will come from songs. This one is Disturbed's cover of Genesis' 'Land of Confusion'.

Sam was angry, of course he was. Dean had killed Amy. She was his friend when he was young. Sure, he barely knew her, but she was pretty and kind and *killed her own mother* to save him. She had a kid. She was only killing douchebags, and only because she'd been driven to it. She was a good person, and she hadn't deserved to die. Maybe she was a monster, and maybe deep down Sam knew that, but he'd been a monster himself, more than once. He'd caused the death of so many people, so many innocent people. Dean had never tried to kill him.

It was selfish, and stupid, running away like that. He knew the leviathans were out to get them. He knew that they were stronger as a team than apart. He knew that ultimately, what Dean had done shouldn't have been enough to make him leave, but he couldn't take it anymore. Those neverending stares. The questions he could see running through Dean's head. Like he was fragile. He never let him alone. It was grating on Sam's already frayed nerves too much. It wasn' t great that he would see Lucifer wherever he looked, whenever he slept. It wasn't great that when he wasn't seeing the Devil he was seeing what he'd done when he'd been skipping around topside with no soul. It wasn't great that sometimes, after they'd just killed a demon, he was tempted. It was brief, and not constant, but it was there. But the one thing that he couldn't handle was Dean's lack of trust. For years, all he'd preached about was trust and truth, and he'd gone and shattered both those things in one single act.

Sam couldn't even look at him. He felt physically sick thinking about it.

So he did what came naturally to him: he hijacked a car, and drove. The smell of hot asphalt was nostalgic, so he'd keep the windows closed at all times, and only play music from crappy pop stations.

He drove for days, stopping at diners and gas stations when necessary, and sleeping in the car. Eventually he found a town he liked and decided to stay for a while. A while turned in to a month, and a month eventually turned in to six. For the first few days he holed up in a motel room, but then he managed to get a job at one of the bars in the town (The Rising Sun), and was allowed to rent on the rooms above the bar at a reduced price.

It was a nice town, and he even quite enjoyed his job. He started off wiping down tables and washing dishes, but was quickly moved up to a bartender when the owner saw how good he was at dealing with drunk patrons. Every first sunday of the night was karaoke, and every other friday they'd have a local band in. The town was big enough that it was a different band most times, and while there were regulars there was ofter quite a variety of people in there.

To Sam it was refreshing, people here didn't know who he was, didn't know his story. He could easily give a fake background (hell, his ID and name were fake, why not completely make up his life story?), and it was getting easier to ignore Lucifer in the corner, smirking away at him.

Eventually he'd settled in, and grown comfortable, even complacent, with his new lifestyle.

It was a normal Friday afternoon, there was a band (The Icenotes, teenagers from the local high school that played mostly soft rock), scheduled to start at 7:00, and there were already a fair few customers in the bar, more than likely catching a drink after a week's work. Sam's shift had just started, and he was in a good mood.

The doorbell chimed but he barely glanced towards it, returning his attention to Bill, his most regular customer, a 60-something year old man with a full head of silver hair and a head full of stories to tell. It was only after Bill finished telling him about his great-nephew's first steps that Sam remember the new customer and headed over to the end of the bar.

Clad in a green jacket and red shirt, the customer quirked an eyebrow and responded to Sam's 'What can I get you sir?' with a corny and totally original 'Know how to make a Screaming Orgasm?' and smirk in his voice.

Suddenly the customer looked up and Sam froze on the spot, one hand outstretched to get a mixer and cocktail glass (that were kept on a shelf above the bar) and the other resting on the polished wood. There was a resounding smash as Sam knocked an empty pint glass from the bar onto the floor by his feet, which broke the spell that seemed to have set upon him. His hand shot down to his side and itched to grab the knife he kept in his belt, his mouth set in a grim line as the customer looked on confused.

"What the hell are you doing here Gabriel?" He managed to grind out. The other patrons of the Rising Sun seemed to know when to leave well enough alone, and didn't approach or even react to the broken glass.

Gabriel frowned, looked around confused, and then looked back at Sam.

"Who's Gabriel?"

AN#2: Ok, there was about 2 more paragraphs at the end of the first chapter that aren't showing up when I look at the 'live preview', so sorry if some of the dialogue doesn't match up, and if it just ends on the word 'impressive' for you guys, then it's all good :D. Also I updated quickly because I'm not asleep yet (obviously) :P and can't get to sleep, but I wouldn't expect another update for about a week. Thankyou for reading! :D (And thankyou to tmmdeathwishraven for being the first (and hopefully not sole :P) reviewer of this fic :D for some reason I can't send a reply to you, but thankyou :D).


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